Sparks
by FangGirl24
Summary: Hermione suddenly finds herself in the Hogwarts library; a strange figure asking questions she cannot answer. Who is this wizard who seems so interested in her? Sparks ensue. (Tomione one-shot)


Hermione looked around, dazed. The room swam about her vision, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass.

"Hello," her eyes shot open with a start and she recognized the Hogwarts Library immediately, as she cautiously turned to look at the speaker. He leaned against a bookshelf, tall and intimidating; handsome. His dark hair was impeccably placed. Sporting Slytherin colors, he crossed his arms and scrutinized her with his dark gray eyes. A smirk played upon his lips. "Mind explaining why you're sitting on the floor?" the young wizard asked, raising an eyebrow, "Or perhaps how you appeared out of thin air? Since it's highly improbable that a witch of your age has accomplished Apparition, yet." he said, a bit condescending.

Hermione's grip tightened on her wand, and she opened and closed her mouth multiple times, unable to reply. The Slytherin looked slightly disappointed when it became obvious the witch was incapable of decent conversation. He sighed. It was a shame, really. You'd think a witch capable of surprising someone such as himself, would be able to utter an answer or two. Well, there were other ways of getting information, though he hesitated to use such methods out in the open. The small witch had managed to stand, somewhat unsteadily, on her feet. Wand in hand, eyes never leaving the wizards face, she whispered,

"Who are you?"

The Slytherin smirked, returning his attention to the young woman. "Why should I answer, when you are determined to ignore my questions?" He pulled out his own wand, playing with the smooth wood. Hermione stiffened, suddenly very aware that she was alone with a strange, possibly dangerous, obviously powerful wizard (if the overwhelming aura surrounding him was anything to go by). Inching her wand upward, she stuck out her chin and asked, more forcefully than before,

"Who are you?"

The stranger sighed again, "So rude. One should introduce themselves before demanding someones name..."

"Just answer my question!" she growled, brows furrowing, wand snapping up in irritation. He looked at her blandly, "You have yet to answer mine." The Gryffindor gritted her teeth, and hissed, "I don't have time for these games."

A wicked grin broke across the dark features of the wizard, "Games?" the sudden flash in his eyes was the only warning she had, before a hex was flung at her; she hardly had enough time to conjure a shield. "If you wish to play games, then who am I to deny you?"

Hermione's eyes widened, but a moment later she dropped to the ground to avoid a rather nasty looking curse, the dark purple sparks colliding with a bookshelf behind her, the tomes exploding, the smell of burnt parchment filling the air. Flinging her own spells at the figure opposite her, Hermione set a fast pace, hardly giving the spells time to leave her wand before another took it's place. Her attacker seemed immensely pleased with this, grinning, eyes ablaze. It wasn't often someone could match his talent in charms, and rarer still that they were actually able to put him on the defense. It was exhilarating. It was times like these where he really felt _alive_. Dismissing his shield, he once more started throwing his own attacks into the fray. Seemingly equally matched, the spells missed their targets, or were deflected with practiced ease. After what seemed like hours, but was really only minutes, the two halted their battle, breathing hard. Stray bits of singed parchment fluttered around them; the surrounding shelves in shambles, countless books destroyed. The two students' eyes never left the other's- their magical auras warring with each other. Wands still raised, they panted, each carefully considering their next move. Should she run, or continue to fight? Hermione asked herself, knowing full well that the way things were going, the chances of her coming out on top were 50/50. Was the risk really worth it? Her contemplation was cut short, however, when suddenly she found herself empty handed- her wand held securely in her opponents hand. She blinked; she hadn't even seen the wand movement. The slender Slytherin smirked, glancing at her wand before returning his smoldering gaze to her, tauntingly. The wild-haired Gryffindor wasn't sure whether to be frightened or angry, but in the end, the latter won out. He was _gloating_. Fuming, Hermione glared at the wizard, her face flushing in righteous fury.

"Now," he began, "I do believe you were about to tell me how you arrived so... curiously." he lazily flicked his wand, and Hermione found herself being flung into the hard edges of the bookcase behind her, unable to move. The shelves dug into her spine, but she ignored it in favor of glaring daggers at the man who put her there.

"You wish." she huffed. He looked almost amused as he walked toward her, slowly, intimidatingly.

"Now, now," he tsked, "none of that." Brandishing his wand threateningly, smirk never faltering.

Hermione growled, but to her captor she appeared much like a kitten batting her paws. Cute, but hardly dangerous. He blinked; Cute? Where had that come from? His brows furrowed in derision. _Cute_ was not in his vocabulary. Scoffing, he slowly brought his wand up to her neck, gently pressing against her skin.

"You were saying?" The unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Hermione's blood ran cold, and she swallowed. This was not a promising situation, and if she didn't think of something quick, things were bound to go downhill from here. Taking a deep breath, her brown eyes met his, and she whispered truthfully, "I don't know."

He raised one elegant eyebrow, "You don't know." he repeated, skeptical. Were she able to nod, she would have.

"Not a clue."

The Slytherin narrowed his eyes. This girl intrigued him; her not fulling understanding the circumstances of her arrival were irritating, to be sure, but something he could overlook. Though... there _was_ a chance she was not being fully honest with him. Masking all emotion, he slowly, gently, traced his wand up her neck, over the side of her face, resting it at her temple. The cool wood against her skin sent shivers down Hermione's spine.

"You are certain?" he murmured, his voice deepening.

Her mouth suddenly dry, she licked her lips. His eyes followed the movement, the skin between his brows wrinkling slightly.

"...Yes." She managed, growing uncomfortable.

"Forgive me," he whispered, "if I don't take your word for it." Hermione blinked, and then he was murmuring, "Legilimens." A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she felt her mind being invaded. Images sped past him as he stood there, nothing more than a dark fog among her memories. Too fast for him to grab hold of, many of her memories were gone before he had the chance to look at them. He did manage to enter one though; the girl looked to be in the first year of Hogwarts, which was ridiculous, since he would've known if she had been a student. All thoughts were pushed aside, in favor of watching the memory play out. A redheaded boy was watching her irately, as she corrected his pronunciation of a levitation spell, successfully executing the spell with ease, a smug expression on her face. He was able to feel her satisfaction at accomplishing the charm, as well as a hopefulness he didn't understand. The memory slipped away, and suddenly he was looking at a Third year version of the witch, dressed in muggle clothes, marching toward a group of boys standing outside, on the Hogwarts grounds. An older version of the redhead from before followed behind her, as well as another boy with messy dark hair and round glasses.

"Look who's here," one of the boys whispered to the others, and the three turned toward her, the blond smirking obnoxiously, "Ah, come to see the show?" The girl was furious, hatred for this boy burning hot inside her.

"You- you foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" she shouted, her wand whipping up out of nowhere, suddenly pressed against the blond boy's throat. He whimpered, his back against a large stone. Just then, the redhead called from behind, "Hermione, no! He's not worth it."

Hermione... he filed the name away for later, returning his attention to the scene before him. Even as the frustration was building up inside her, she lowered her wand and turned away, as if to leave, when suddenly she pulled her arm back and punched the blond in his nose. The two friends of the blond grabbed at him, helping him to his feet, "Malfoy, are you okay?" one asked, as they ran away. Hermione stood there a moment, breathing deeply,

"That felt good." She stated, and even then he could feel the satisfaction from the release of anger the punch had caused, and smirked. Then that memory was gone as well; they were moving by faster now- just blurs of color. Grasping frantically at a memory- any memory- he found himself in a room.

She was standing alone, deep in thought, when suddenly a swell of strong, old magic welled up around her. He blinked in surprise; this was strange magic- older and more powerful than he had ever encountered. It was obvious that whomever was casting this spell was far more experienced than this Gryffindor witch, who, at this point, looked like a Sixth year student. In a surge of overwhelming magic, and a blinding flash, Hermione was engulfed, and he felt her surprise and fear. Then nothing. The next memory picked up where the last left off. She slowly gained consciousness, and upon waking found herself on the floor of the Hogwarts library. They had come full circle.

He pulled out of her mind, canceling the spell. He glared off at nothing, irritated. In an attempt to find answers, all he had succeeded in doing was discover more questions. None of which Hermoine had the answers to.

Hermione.

He looked up sharply, meeting her angry glare.

"You- how dare you." she hissed.

The wizard watched her coolly, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. He shrugged, a casual gesture suddenly very refined. "It was imperative that I confirm your answer."

"And that was the only option, of course." she growled, eyes blazing, anger bubbling up inside her.

"Certainly one of the less messy." A raised eyebrow.

Hermione strained against the spell holding her in place, intent on ringing this boy's neck.

"No need to be so resentful... Hermione." he said her name with a purr, a satisfied smirk sliding into place when he saw her eyes widen, then narrow.

"Well, since you not only have your answer, but also _my name_, I believe you still owe _me_ an answer." she said, eyes dark, brows furrowed. His smirk receded, and he sniffed in disdain,

"I hardly owe you anything, _Hermione_." he said, putting emphasis on her name, just to add to her irritation.

"Like hell," she growled, hair puffed to an absurd extent, magic crackling in the air. Grinning now, the Slytherin slowly stalked toward her, eyeing her like a predator toward prey. Hermione gulped, eyes wide in abrupt fear, her stomach seemingly dropping. He was inches away now, looming over her, the edges of his school robes brushing against hers.

"Tell me, Hermione," he murmured, his breath puffing warmly against her forehead, "Do you fear me?"

Her eyes snapped up to his, sparking indignantly, "No; Of course not!" was her hissed response. He sighed quietly, eyelids lowering slightly,

"A shame." he murmured, and then he was pressed up against her, his lips melding to hers. Hermione gasped, shock stiffening her body, before she began to melt into the kiss, warmth spreading through her stomach. The sly Slytherin he was, the moment she opened her mouth he had taken that as invitation, deepening the kiss. Hermione's hands gripped the front of his robes, pulling him closer still, oblivious to the fact that the immobilization charm had ended. They stood like that, pressed against each other- pressed against the bookcase- for some time. Lost in the sensations, neither wanted the kiss to end. Hermione was lightheaded when at last they broke away for air.

Gasping, flushed and wide eyed, she looked up at the wizard before her, fingers still twisted in his robes.

"Wh- Wha?" she whispered, her mind unable to function properly. He grinned, eyes dark and shining. He whispered in her hair,

"It's been a pleasure, Hermione. I look forward to seeing you again."

"Wh-wh-" Hermione stuttered after him, as he walked away, a certain swagger to his steps. Almost as an afterthought, he looked over his shoulder, smirking,

"If you ever wish to pick up where we left off..." he paused, before grinning mischievously, "Just ask for Riddle; _Tom_ _Riddle_." He left her then, turning around and sweeping from the room. Hermione stood there, pale as death, long after he left, shock once more immobilizing her body.

"Wha... _What_?" she whispered.

* * *

**A/N: Right, so, this was written last night at 5 in the morning. It was originally only going to be a couple sentences long, but it got out of hand and _this _was born. Of course, you may have noticed that it's not very good. Or that _nothing_ is explained when it comes to Hermione's sudden arrival in Tom Riddle's time. It sort of is set in the universe of a Tomione fic I'm working on, but it wasn't really intended to be part of that story. Anyway, this is what happens when a sleep deprived Tomione shipper with writers block get's a hold of anon messages on tumblr. (I sent 27 messages to my friend, on anon. Twenty-seven. _Twenty-seven._ Get the internet away from me.) **

**(Psssh, original title? Good synopsis? What is this thing you speak of?)**

**That being said, reviews are welcome! Thanks!**


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